


Pay in Kind

by Arukou



Series: Tumblr Archive [38]
Category: Avengers (Comics), Captain America (Comics), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Comic), Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Armor Kink, Hand Jobs, Identity Porn, M/M, Marvel 616 - Freeform, Masturbation, Stony Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 18:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7542724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arukou/pseuds/Arukou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iron Man knows Steve doesn't blame him for the mind control, but he can't help wanting to make it up anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pay in Kind

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/post/137445764026/make-it-up-to-you).
> 
> For the Stony bingo prompt “canon 616: gold/silver/bronze age.” There’s a specific story from Iron man comics that I was thinking of when I wrote this, but when I went to check it out from the library, it was already gone. What I remember is that there’s mind control, Tony fights Cap, Tony comes to his senses in time to save Cap. (1/9/17: Update, I have found it at last and it is from Captain America Annual #9.) That's all you really need to know for what follows.
> 
> I have not read a lot of comics from this era, so please forgive me any inaccuracies.

Steve is solicitous on the ride back to Avengers mansion, and somehow, it makes Tony feel even worse about the whole incident. Steve’s the one sporting a swelling bruise on his cheekbone, after all. Never mind that it will be gone in a few hours, it’s here now, reminding Tony that he turned his hands against his best friend.

“You’re sure there are no residual effects?”

“As sure as I can be, with my limited readings. Whatever had control of me, it seems to be gone now.”

Steve smiles and sweeps the cowl back and Tony feels a rush of emotions that send him tumbling. That perfect smile coupled with that damning bruise. What’s he supposed to do, to say to make it right. From beneath the mask, he grimaces and turns away, coming in for a landing on the mansion’s roof.

They exit the jet and Tony watches Steve go, slipping down the roof access and leaving him roiling. The mind control is gone, yes, but he can still see it again and again. Attacking Steve, hurling him over the edge. He’d been glad to do it.

His chest twinges and he checks his power gauges, realizing that in the fight, he must have used even more energy than he’d calculated. He rushes down to the privacy of his own room and plugs in the chest plate to charge.

It’s getting late, so he doesn’t bother to redress himself, and instead, lays down for the night. The suit doesn’t need repairs and he’s not sure if he could concentrate on them anyway, what with the way he keeps seeing Steve falling again and again. Is this what Steve dreams of when he thinks of the war? Bucky falling away to his doom in an endless loop? Or his own fall down into the icy Atlantic?

For two hours, Tony lays in bed, but his mind won’t quiet, nor will it focus on the equations he keeps dreaming up in an effort to distract himself. Eventually he sits up in bed, disconnecting the chest plate and turning to stare down at his own knees. Just once more. He needs to apologize just once more.

He slips into the armor and heads out into the hallway. The other Avengers are all abed and it’s only Tony wandering the mansion, but he knows from experience that Steve is probably still awake. He hardly seems to sleep any more than Tony.

At Steve’s door, Tony knocks, but there’s no answer. He hesitates a moment and then opens the door a little to check and see if Steve’s sleeping.

In the half light from the windows, it takes him a moment to process. Steve’s in bed alright, sprawled out in only his boxers, back arched and hand moving furiously. Tony blinks, blinks again, and instantly goes hard inside the armor. Steve’s…oh… The red head of his cock peeks from his fist and Tony feels his knees weaken. He needs to get away, to make an escape or there will be worse consequences.

The armor, however, is not the quietest tool in Tony’s arsenal. As he’s pulling Steve’s door shut, the metal gauntlet scrapes loudly against the wood and Tony freezes. From inside the room, he hears Steve pause as well.

“Who’s there?” If Tony weren’t panicking, he’d be impressed by how even Steve’s voice sounds in spite of what he was just doing. “Show yourself.”

Tony could leave. Steve might not catch sight of him if he took off flying. But somehow he thinks that would make him feel worse. Sheepishly, he pushes the door open, hanging his head as much as the armor allows.

Steve’s turned on the bedside light and pulled the sheet up around his waist, but it barely does anything to hide the erection still bobbing between his legs. He’s red from forehead to nipples, and Tony’s insides clench with want.

“Iron Man?”

“I’m sorry, Steve, I didn’t mean to…I was just…I knocked, but you didn’t answer, so…uh…”

Steve blinks and shakes his head, running a hand through his rumpled hair. “It’s fine. What do you need?”

“I was just…” Tony can’t even find the words. Steve’s erection is right there, apparently not flagging in spite of Steve’s obvious embarrassment. Maybe it’s something to do with the serum. Wicked ideas pop in and out of Tony’s head in rapid succession, and he’s sorely tempted, but he clenches his fists and grits his teeth. “I just wanted to apologize again for today. I should’ve been able to overcome the mind control. I shouldn’t’ve attacked you. I’m sorry, Steve.”

Steve smiles sheepishly at that and shakes his head. “Come here, Iron Man.”

Tony hesitates a moment, but then shuts the door behind him and approaches Steve. At the edge of the bed, he stops, hands awkwardly at his sides, eyes searching for anything to look at but Steve’s lap, his skin, his eyes, his muscles, his perfect beautiful smile.

“Mind control is part of the super heroing business. You know that by now. You shouldn’t beat yourself up for something that was outside of your control.” He holds his hand out and Tony feels suddenly trapped. Does Steve know what he’s doing? How tempting he is? But if Tony doesn’t take that hand, Steve will feel even more hurt, and that’s unacceptable. So Tony puts the gauntlet in Steve’s hand and squeezes.

“I still wish there was some way for me to make it up to you.”

Steve’s cock bobs beneath the sheets, and Tony’s eyes are drawn to it like iron filings to a magnet. Steve’s blush, if anything, worsens—he’s nearly as red as a bottle of ketchup. “It’s already forgiven, Iron Man.”

In the back of Tony’s mind, those ideas are still percolating, coalescing, and maybe it’s the late hour or the lack of sleep or the vision of Steve plunging over a cliff, but Tony’s suddenly feeling reckless, invincible.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you, Captain?” And even through the voice modulation, he can hear how his tone’s changed, the insinuations behind the words. Steve hears it to, if the way his eyes widen is any indication.

“Uh…no, I…I mean you…there’s…” And between them Steve’s cock bobs twice more. Some madness possesses Tony, and he slides his hand up Steve’s arm, feathering the metal over bicep, deltoid, pectoral.

“Iron Man?” Steve says, and his voice is much softer now, almost fearful.

“Let me make it up to you, Captain.”

Steve sucks a breath through his teeth and shivers as the cold metal slides down his chest to the ridges of his abdomen. Tony traces each muscle with soft precision, outlining the beauty of Steve’s body. Then he adds his other hand and applies a bit more pressure, sweeping his fingers over skin, over nipples, over fine golden chest hair.

“Iron Man,” Steve whispers, and this time it isn’t a question. His eyes are sliding closed and his right hand comes up to cup the jaw of the helmet, thumb squeaking lightly against the shining gold. Slowly he falls back, and Tony follows him without a thought, running his hands over Steve’s chest again and again. He wishes he could have skin to skin contact, could run his tongue over Steve’s neck and learn the taste of him, but that’s not possible. Instead, he gently draws back the sheet so that he can study Steve’s cock. It’s as beautiful and perfect as the rest of him, smooth, uncircumcised, red and swollen with want. He brings his hand down until it’s pressing to Steve’s over abdomen, between belly button and pubic bone, and Steve jerks involuntarily, arching up a little.

“Iron Man, what are we…oh,” he says again, still just as softly, as Tony slips a hand behind Steve’s erection to cradle his balls. They’re tight and pleasantly full in his hand as he juggles them between his fingers for a moment. The suit gives him feedback on pressure, but it can’t teach him the texture or temperature of the skin, the coiled scratch of pubic hair.

Beneath him, Steve whimpers and arches, cock bouncing gently against Tony’s forearm. “Please, Iron Man. Please.”

Tony takes pity on him and closes his left hand around Steve’s cock, applying just enough pressure to squeeze but not enough to provide any relief. He doesn’t want to pinch Steve’s skin in the joints, so he moves his hand at a glacial pace, showing the same care he’d give to a precision circuit board. He has all the time in the world and he wants to see, to take in every movement Steve makes, ever shade of his skin, ever bitten-back moan.

The bruise on Steve’s cheek-bone has lightened and changed to week-old yellow and green, and Tony reaches up to touch it, ghosting the finger pads of the gauntlet over hot, blush-red skin. Steve moans and turns, kissing the tips of Tony’s fingers. “Please,” he whispers again, and reaches blindly for Tony’s shoulders.

Tony resists at first, but Steve’s strength is equal to that of the armor, and Tony would never fight him willingly. He allows himself to be dragged down, even as he increases the pressure on Steve’s cock a little.

“Iron Man,” Steve whispers over and over, and he turns and kisses the helmet, his face filling Tony’s vision. He breaks away with a gasp, twisting and writhing on the sheets, and it’s the most beautiful thing Tony’s ever seen. Steve is shiny with sweat now, the veins in his neck tight, his cock nearly purple in Tony’s grip. Tony’s own cock is uncomfortably tight against the groin plate, and he shifts restlessly as it presses and pinches, but it’s worth it all for Steve.

And the height of a thrust, Steve suddenly clamps his own hand over the gauntlet, squeezing until Tony fears he’s applying too much pressure. There’s not even any slick beyond Steve’s own precome; it can’t be comfortable. But Steve thrusts harder, his head back against the pillows, his other hand clenched tight on the gold mesh of Tony’s thigh.

“There, there, there,” he hisses and comes, white spurting over their joined hands and Steve’s stomach. He stays taught for several seconds, his back in a perfect arch, his mouth thrown open in ecstasy, and then he melts into the sheets, chest heaving.

For a moment, Tony allows himself to bask in Steve’s afterglow, watching the play of light across his muscles, the way the blush slowly recedes as his cock softens. Then he moves to rise. Steve’s hand snaps out and grabs his wrist.

“Stay,” he says, voice syrupy and eyes half-lidded. “You…can I…” he gestures to Tony’s groin plate and looks so hopeful that Tony’s heart breaks a little.

“You know I can’t,” he says, keeping his voice as quiet as he can.

Something in Steve’s expression breaks a little, and he turns, looking up at the ceiling. He doesn’t release Tony’s wrist, though, and Tony would never willingly hurt Steve by breaking his grip. So they sit there in the faint light of the bedside table.

“Ok,” Steve says finally, looking back at Tony. “We don’t need to…” he blushes a little and gestures to Tony’s crotch. “But will you still stay? I was worried I’d lost you today, and…would you stay? Please?”

He looks up at Tony with those huge blue eyes and Tony can’t do anything but acquiesce. Quietly, he lays back down at Steve’s side and pulls the covers over them both. After a moment, he puts his arm on Steve’s stomach.

“Sorry about the armor,” he says after a moment. “I know it’s cold.”

Steve turns into his grip, slinging his own arm over Tony’s waist. “Doesn’t matter. Just glad to you have you here.”

This close, Tony can see the yellow bruise on Steve’s check all too clearly, and he reaches up to touch it again. “I really am sorry about this.”

“All’s forgiven Iron Man,” Steve says without hesitation, and after a moment, he leans forward and kisses the faceplate again. “Could you get the light?”

Tony turns over and flicks off the bedside lamp, feeling the way Steve melts against him in the darkness. In the morning, he’ll look back and think on what a foolish idea this was. He should never have acted on his feelings for Steve. But here, in the dark, he can’t be anything but glad that Steve is safe, that they’re together, and that nothing could tear them apart.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](http://arukou-arukou.tumblr.com/) for more fanfiction and nerdery.


End file.
